EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN
by hevaann
Summary: A Wincest Drabble


_Based on Season 2, Episode 2 "Everybody Loves A Clown"_

_Prompt: __**"Come here, I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Then maybe we can cry, hug, maybe even slow dance" **__– Dean_

The slow dance comment was a low blow, even for Dean. As soon as it was out of his mouth he wished he could retract it – but the look on Sam's face told him it was too late.

"Dean, I look ridiculous"

"Actually, I think you'll pass for okay," Dean told his sixteen year old brother, "Obviously you don't have these devilishly good looks of mine, but I'm sure there's some Winchester charm in there somewhere."

He straightened Sam's tie, thwacking him on the shoulder when the younger boy wriggled.

"You know if you get much taller Sammy, you won't fit in my clothes anymore," Dean chastised, not resigning to being the short one. "That reminds me," he added, and pulled his fake FBI badge from Sam's inside pocket, before stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"This is a waste of time Dean," Sam sighed, but Dean was quick to reprimand him.

"Sammy, this is your prom – and as lame as it is, I know it matters to you. You've missed out on so much; being moved around and stuff. You're owed this. Besides – you have a date."

"I can't dance Dean"

"Well I don't know what you're looking at me for"

"I'm going to make a right fool out of myself," Sam said, starting to remove his tie. Dean stopped him.

"It's high school Sammy – it's a rite of passage"

"Not for you – you took high school as no more than an option. Didn't you spend your prom hunting down some ghost?"

"The ghost was _at_ the prom dude – some chick who'd hung herself because she hadn't made Prom Queen the year before. It turned into one hell of a party"

"Wanna crash this one?" Sam offered.

Dean laughed – "Here, I'll teach you how to dance"

"I'll pass, thanks all the same"

"Would you rather look a complete idjit with me or with some girl you're hoping to score with later?"

Sam groaned but nodded his head. Dean took a step forward.

"Besides, _I_ know you're an idjit anyway"

At this non-compliment Sam tried to pull away, but Dean was holding him tight around his hips. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you supposed to be the girl in this scenario?" He asked.

"No need to rub it in dude," Dean muttered, begrudgingly moving his hands up around Sam's neck.

"Now you just kinda have to sway – it's not difficult. I'm not going to break you know," Dean added in reference to Sam's hands which were only hovering about his brother's hips. Sam grunted, but gripped Dean's sides tightly, sending his knuckles white.

They shook on the spot for a minute before Dean felt compelled to fill the silence, "You have two left feet you know"

"Jerk," Sam responded, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his feet.

"Bitch," was Dean's automatic response, causing them both to laugh as they realised the irony of the situation – Dean being the female in this current role play.

In the process of laughing they had moved closer together until Sam's arms were encircling Dean's waist, and Dean's hands passed over each other behind Sam's neck. It was evident for the first time just how much Sam had really grown, especially when he moved to rest his head on top of Dean's.

"This is awkward, huh?" Sam said in an attempt to fill the silence. But if he was honest it was anything but – he felt more relaxed than he had done in years.

"Yup, definitely awkward," responded Dean.

"Do you wanna stop?"

"Okay," Dean responded, but didn't pull away. They were still swaying.

Anybody else it really would have been awkward – but so much unusual had occurred in grimy motel rooms such as these, that in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered.

Dean felt Sam's breath on his ear and instinctively ran one hand up through Sam's hair. Sam froze.

He tried to back away, but his feet wouldn't move. Instead he had the overwhelming urge to tilt his head down and kiss Dean, on the lips, while he was wrapped in his arms.

Finally it was Dean who broke free.

"Well then, that's you all sorted," he said, his hand in his hair and his eyes anywhere but on Sam. He stalked out of the motel room, grabbing his jacket on the way, leaving Sam to sort out his tie himself.

Later Dean would steal his prom date in a bid to prove everything was still normal. But by then it wasn't like Sam cared anymore – she had felt strange against him; wrong somehow.

At the end of the day, in the crazy world they lived in, Dean was the only thing in his life that felt right.


End file.
